


Duality

by Otonymous



Category: MLQC: Fandom, love and producer, 恋与制作人 | Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén | Mr. Love: Queen's Choice (Video Game)
Genre: Breathplay, Clubbing, Cotton Candy, F/M, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: Kiro introduces you to some hot club bangers.





	Duality

**Author's Note:**

> Baby boy’s about to show you he’s full grown XD 
> 
> Ok, cheesy tag line aside, to everyone who requested a smutty Kiro fic, thanks a million for waiting so patiently!
> 
> Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and happy reading! :)

“I wonder…”

Blue eyes captured your gaze, preternaturally bright as if lit from within by its own luminous star — brilliant even in the dim corner of the club where lithe yet muscular arms pressed against the wall on either side of your head, the sleeves of an oversized hoodie shielding you from view.

“…if your lips still taste of cotton candy?”

Pupils expanded as they approached, the sight calling to attention every nerve in your body like matches waiting to be struck, the heat simmering beneath your flesh threatening to burst into flame for want of his hands on your skin.

“Think I could find out…”

That voice which dominated charts the world over now dropped to a low register to whisper in your ear — message loud and clear despite the booming bass line reverberating in the room.

“…Miss Chips?”  
  
Your nickname, so often spoken in light, cheerful tones, was now imbued with smoke and velvet as Kiro’s breath danced along the line of your jaw to send electricity up your spine. And when azure irises trace an unhurried path over your features to rest at your lower lip, tucked under the bite of teeth, all you can manage is a nod in response.

Suddenly, that smile — radiant sunshine as it flashed over the face known to millions — and Kiro is caressing your cheek, the black metal of his ring cool against your skin as he slips his thumb between your teeth, pink tongue darting out to trace the contour of your lower lip before sucking it into his mouth.

And you forget.

Forget about the crowd of Kiro fans who grew rabid upon spotting their idol in public, giving chase during your date and making you drop your cotton candy in the process.

Forget the confusion you felt to see Kiro’s seemingly haphazard twists and turns through side streets and back alleys suddenly lead to an underground club operating in the middle of the day, electronic refrains hitting your eardrums hard as soon as the reinforced steel door swung open.

Forget about your intention to ask Kiro how he knew the access code to the locked door in the first place.

Because in the moment your breathless laughter mingled together under the cover of din and darkness, hearts bursting from excitement as much as the prospect of danger, you were already hopelessly caught up in the sun and moon that rose in the depths of Kiro’s eyes.

“Hmm!”

Your exclamation is swallowed up by the growing urgency of his mouth on yours, Kiro’s tongue deftly exploring as smoothly as the lyrics that left his lips. And as desire spread like wildfire in your veins, propelled by every thunderous beat of your heart, you surrender to the hungry hands that roved over your body — caring not for discretion nor propriety in the packed club.

“You taste so sweet, Miss Chips...so good. But you know what? _I bet you feel even better._"

That million-watt smile again, except this time, his eyes are hooded with the shadow of some unfathomable deviance. The contradiction in his expression makes every hair stand on end — your body awaiting the revelation of some earth-shattering secret.

But with the music so loud you can barely hear your thoughts, you defer instead to your hands; fingertips seeking truth as they run through flaxen hair hidden beneath a hood, trace over a silver cross nestled between firm pecs, then finally…reaching down to cup the growing bulge straining against black denim.

Perhaps it was the darkness that pervaded the corner where Kiro had you pinned. Or perhaps it was the manner in which he assured you with uncanny certainty that no one would be passing close enough to see you huddled together. But the yearning in your body left no room for hesitation, and as waves of pulsing beats swept all objections from your mind, you turned within the circle of his embrace to face the wall, hands slowly lifting the hem of your skirt as you looked at him over one shoulder to ask:

“Care to find out for yourself?”

Kiro’s tongue sweeps out to moisten his lips as he studies you, and for a split second, you swear you see a glimmer of gold diffuse into the blue of his eyes, trained on you with desirous intensity before crinkling at the corners.

“I knew you’d be down to play. Such a good sport, Miss Chips.”

Turning again to face the wall, you try to anticipate the movement of Kiro’s hands — long, tapered fingers electric as they slide down the small of your back, trace the swell of your hips, splay along the supple flesh of your buttocks before firmly squeezing in an assessing grip.

“I’ll get you new ones, okay?”

His voice is husky in your ear, and before you could even ask for clarification, you gasp to feel your panties slip away, satin and lace ripping clean apart before being tucked into the back pocket of the superstar’s jeans.

“Make it wet for me, Miss Chips?”

Index finger lightly traces the outline of your lips before pushing past them to draw circles on your tongue. And by the time Kiro’s middle finger is introduced, saliva has already run down to his knuckles, coating his ring and your chin as he continues to fuck your mouth.

“Ah, Kiro!”

Bracing yourself harder against the wall to feel him slide those fingers between your legs, the moisture on his hand merges with that of your arousal as he strokes the length of your slit, gentle but insistent. And when they finally slip inside you to press and curl — expertly eliciting that tension until your pussy is clenching to pull his hand deeper still — Kiro whispers soothingly in your ear,

“Scream if you want, baby. No one can hear you over the music.”

But you could barely breathe by the time his cock teased at your entrance, the superstar taking the time to meticulously coat himself in your arousal before finally pushing into your wet heat; slick head stretching delicate skin.

Kiro fucks you. Hard. As if the vitality of his entire being was now transferred into the hips that pounded against your backside, keeping time with the fast tempo of the music. The force of his passion is unyielding as he dives so deeply you swear you feel it in your throat — right before he reaches to wrap his hand gently around it.

At the brush of his fingers on your pulse, you fall apart, moans swallowed up by the swell of an electronic chorus just as Kiro said it would. And from behind, his breaths grow increasingly erratic as you clench around him, your legs barely holding up against the renewed onslaught as he chased his own release until you feel him spill hot within you.

* * *

“The coast is clear now, Miss Chips!”

Kiro tugs on your hand, ducking out of the alleyway onto a residential street, his steps light with barely disguised mirth. And when he looks back to flash you a smile, it is so bright you think to ask for the sunglasses he is slipping onto his face.

Sweet. Warm. The Kiro you knew and loved.

But the man in the club — shrouded in darkness with danger in his eye — excited you, and the thought of him moving within you made you quiver still.

“Look, you can see the moon!”

Your gaze follows Kiro’s index, pointing to the moon hanging in the blue sky, its outline faint but discernible: day merged with night, like the man before you.


End file.
